A Kiss to Build a Dream On
by Dena Gray
Summary: A garish tent, a Valentine's fair, and a little more than happenstance bring them together for an unforgettable kiss. SSHG, A/U, Postwar, Yes she's of age, 8th year. Much more innocent than I usually write... Don't look at me like that.


Happy Valentine's fellow shippers! Ihis open challenge came from Dragoon811 on a facebook page I belong to and I couldn't resist!

The challenge is this:

"I have no time to write so I am releasing a plot bunny into the ether as a "Valentine's Day Fair Challenge"! There is a Valentine's day fair and there's a kissing booth. Can be at Hogwarts as long as she's of age, or post war in a small town or whatever. But one of them must be the one at the booth! 🙂  
Have fun!"

Lots of smoke and grinding gears later, I have this. Yes, I still have too many unfinished fics. Yes, I plan on finishing them (someday). In the meantime, enjoy this little contribution to our ship! 3

xoxo Dena

A Kiss to Build a Dream On by Dena Gray

Not mine, I'm not making any profit. ;)

xxxx

Let's set the scene, shall we?

I am not, by any means, a paedophile. Yesterday, I could have been accused of being one, if - what I shall call, for now - the tribulation of a Hogwarts' Benefit Kissing Booth had been anything other than magic.

Cause for concern? Yes, I agree. Completely. Which is why I told Minerva I didn't want to be caught dead near the thing, but alas… I have a soft spot for her wheedling. A year making her think I was the second-best epitome of evil has a habit of preying on my inherent guilty conscience, and so I relented.

On one very specific condition.

I would chaperone Slytherin House for two hours at the ridiculous Hogsmeade Valentine's Festival, and then attend the festivities myself for no more than one hour - under the guise of polyjuice.

I absolutely refused to attend such a farce as myself, especially with the reputation of myself and my House to maintain. It - our respective reputations - were on shaky enough ground as it was. No one needed to see me roving for trinkets or eating candied roses while they were attempting some form of heathen, childish romance.

Minerva argued for a good solid hour, but I would not let go of my one condition. I even let her bargain up to three hours chaperoning, but I couldn't wander the hallways of Hogwarts without scaring a child into fainting at least once a day just by being me. What would happen to the poor idiots if they saw me lined up for candy floss?

No. If I am to be guilted into attending and participating with this cherub-filled, roseate, Valentinian Hell, then I would do so on my own terms.

And I'll be damned if the old cat didn't wheedle me into fifteen minutes volunteering at her Kissing Booth.

Apparently, it was to raise money for the school itself, and Minerva thought it was a marvelous idea. I fought hard, but she'd inherited Albus' twinkle when she'd ascended to Headmistress, and I knew that twinkle meant a battle lost. If I didn't accede now, she'd find a way to force me to do it without polyjuice.

The part where paedophilia comes in happens later.

Thank Merlin for time-turners, I suppose.

xxxx

Something about the smell of so much sugar, paired with Ron's gluttony and Harry's sappy mooncalf eyes at Ginny, made me wish I'd never agreed to come to this Valentine's Fair.

My stomach was turning, and not just from the greasy chips Ron was currently inhaling.

I really wish Professor McGonagall had specified what kind of booth she had set up for benefitting Hogwarts in Hogsmeade this weekend. I can't possibly think of a more Dumbledorean display than… that.

It looked awful.

Pink glittery tent flaps waved at passersby, while fat little cherubim threatened - er - playfully flourished their red little bows with shiny, copper-tipped arrows to get people to buy a ticket into the Kissing Booth.

I admit, if I weren't appalled at the sheer effrontery of satin ribbons and heart-shaped bubbles flowing out of the gawky flaps, and if the line wasn't wrapped around the tent three times, then I might be somewhat interested in what was so interesting.

As it was, I was debating whether my promise to the Headmistress to patron the booth was worth waiting out the line.

I kept having images flick through my head of bad movie plots where the protagonist ended up kissing someone wholly unexpected, and therefore changed by the experience to somehow see the world as a better place.

How trite.

Still, I suppose a promise is a promise. I let out a grand sigh for my sacrifice of dignity, and got a confused look from Ron.

"What are you so depressed about?" He swallowed a mouthful of half chewed chips and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Charming."

"What, like you don't know me by now?"

"I'd rather hoped you'd be more mannered today, since you said you wanted to catch up with Susan."

He wiggled his red eyebrows at me. "But, it's just you and me now, innit?"

I gave him my best annoyed look and thumped him on the arm. Another flash of red hair caught my eye, and, upon recognizing Ron's current crush standing in line at the Kissing Booth, I grabbed his arm and turned him to see what I saw.

He used his wand faster than I'd thought possible, post-war, and cleaned up in a trice as soon as he spied Susan.

"Hermione, you're always going to be there to keep me straight, aren't you?" His loopy grin turned away just in time to not see my unhappy expression.

I felt like I'd swallowed a toad.

A tremor of destiny jangled down my nerves and I pushed him hard towards Susan before he expected an answer.

Is that what I was now? A substitute for his poor, bereaved mother who neglected her living brood for the son she'd lost? I couldn't possibly live up to that symbol of matriarchy, nor could I maintain any position near Ron for any such reason or for any length of time, anymore.

The war had done more than change the world. It had changed me. I was bored with the world around me, and I'd thought that would never happen. At least there was-

Well, we were graduating our eighth year soon. I've already applied and been accepted at university. What did Ron think I was going to do, floo home to keep him in line and tell him what to do all the time?

Fuck that.

I turned away and wandered for a bit.

Apparently, rethinking your friendship roles gets you stuck in line to the Kissing Booth just before last call.

I'd even mechanically bought the ticket.

Ugh.

xxxx

Minerva _would_ stuff me at the end of the rota to keep me on as long as possible. I don't know why I thought this booth was a la muggle, but it was not. There were no lean-ins for a peck a pence, nor were there discounts on multiple purchases. It was the damndest thing I've ever seen.

As soon as someone bought a ticket, they were assigned a door flap. Left was for minors, right was for adults. At least the old girl had stationed my polyjuiced self in the adult side. My stomach churned hard on the sweets I'd indulged in just at the thought of kissing a student. Well, mostly. There was one-

"What did you do to get roped into this, eh?"

I blinked as I stood there, trying to think of what Bathsheda could have possibly done to be here, as well, and what I could say to keep my identity hidden. So much for keeping those espionage skills honed. "Same as you, I suppose."

She barked a laugh. "Somehow, I doubt it. I spiked her morning tea with catnip for a joke one Sunday. She's blamed multiple infirmities on it ever since."

I couldn't help the unrefined snort that resulted from trying to hold back a proper laugh. Bathsheda? Really?

I tried to think quickly of what to reply, but Rolanda swept in to save the day… or deliver the death knell, whichever way you wanted to put it.

She sized me up with those canny yellow eyes and somehow I knew she knew it was me and not some random citizen of Hogsmeade.

"Alright, here's what happens. The ticketed person comes in, chooses to kiss one of you, then the Peruvian darkness powder gets pinched - Pinched, mind you, not thrown. The one of you chosen has to kiss the ticket holder for a minimum five seconds, but the powder will last for ten. Just keep it clean, and remember you are representatives of Hogwarts, not some cathouse."

With a crisp nod and a wink at the Runes teacher, Rolanda stepped out of their compartment, on to coach the volunteers in the minor compartment.

We both stood awkwardly and looked around the small room. There was lurid fuchsia and red fabric on the walls, and I tapped the small purple camper chair with my foot to see how sturdy it was. It proved it's worth, and I motioned for my section mate to sit down.

She did, and the first victim came through the flap.

I stood quietly by as man after man, some old, some not so old, came lining through the space to kiss Bathseda. I grew accustomed to being ignored, so I lost track of time thinking about my one exception to the student rule. Surely she wouldn't-

"Alright, let's get this over with."

The long-suffering statement arrived with a cleared throat from Bathsheda. I, surprised, turned around to see what female had entered. I nearly expected the girl to just choose to kiss the other person here. My heartbeat stuttered to see the girl was actually Hermione Granger.

My heart accelerated at such a pace I could feel the polyjuice start to end a little early. Rolanda called the last person in and spoke through the tent walls, "If you don't have a charge in front if you, you are dismissed."

The Runes professor was out like a shot, and I was left with the subject of my thoughts for the past fourteen minutes. She stood there, eyeing me up with her arms crossed, and I took a step towards her.

Her hair had been blown a bit out of her braid, and between that and the growing flush on her cheeks, she looked delectably disheveled.

My eyes widened in panic as my gentleman downstairs decided to awaken, and I grabbed a little too hard at the knob of Peruvian instant darkness.

Just as I reached for her arm to orient myself, I saw her eyes grow large; and in the dim light before the powder took over, I wondered if she saw the polyjuice wear away.

It was completely dark for who knew how long and my secret desire was waiting for me to kiss her.

What else was there for me to do?

I slid my hand up her arm to her neck, brought the other up to cradle her face, and kissed her with all the yearning that had been building in me since September.

xxxx

I don't know what shocked me more: the fact that I was directed to the adult side of the Kissing Booth, the fact that Madam Hooch winked at me as she shunted me in, the fact that I was being wonderfully, thoroughly, handsomely kissed… or the fact that I was being kissed so by Professor Snape.

I melted in that dark gabardine embrace and pulled my hormonal and deprived body up tightly to his. If he thought he was polyjuiced and kissed me like this… how exciting!

I've grown irritated and bored with everything but him since coming back for my eighth year, and Lord Almighty, here was my chance! I gave our smoldering kiss everything I could, blessing the darkness and the waning polyjuice for my run of good luck.

His wiry arms wrapped more tightly around my torso, hands wandering down from my neck, over my back, nearly to my arse and I whimpered when his hands stopped at my lower back. I hitched a leg up his, and rubbed the inside of my knee along the outer seam of his trousers, nearly hooking my foot around to hold him that much closer. Apparently my balance or his was off in the darkness, for we both fell to the ground, never stopping the heated kiss that just kept on, despite banging our teeth and lips together. He just smoothed his injured lips over mine and murmured a quick apology before rolling me over into the tarped floor.

Oh, God, was that man a good kisser! Noises were forthcoming, and I assumed from the disparate pitches, they were from both of us. It drove me mad to think he wanted me so! Light filtered into my closed eyes, and I peeked to see him.

I groaned and exclaimed triumph at seeing him lost in the passion of the moment… then I squeaked to see the Headmistress and Madam Hooch exchanging knowing glances and watching the floor show.

I think I must have been obvious in my distress, for Professor Snape stopped kissing me and dropped his head down beside mine, away from our audience of two. I don't think he'd seen them, especially since he started whispering something about apologies and how I mustn't hate him and how he'd admired me but had never intended to make advances upon a student, but I'd just been there and this stupid tent-

I wanted to lay there and listen to him all day as he waxed poetic on the subject of how he would have approached me after graduation, but he was getting louder and this was a private topic. I cupped my hands against his shoulders and gently pushed. He stopped his romantic whispers, lifted away and looked down at me with a resigned expression. I'm sure he was expecting me to be upset, likely from either the polyjuice or him being a professor.

I was neither, but again, we had an audience. He saw me glance to the side, but Professor McGonagall was faster than his possible rejection could handle at the moment.

Before he could turn his head, the Headmistress squawked, "Severus Snape! Is that a student?"

I think he apparated to stand up. I didn't think anyone moved that fast anymore. His hand came down in front of my face as I sat up from our compromising position and I gladly took it to pull up beside him.

I stood closer to him than I probably should have in that moment, and watched the sting of embarrassment bloom on his ivory cheeks. "Minerva- I-"

I couldn't help it, I had to intervene. "It was all my fault, Professor. I thought it would be better for me to come to the adult side, since I am one."

Madam Hooch's sharp eyebrows ran for her short hairline, and Professor Snape's head nearly spun off his neck at the speed with which he turned to look at me.

I cleared my throat and continued. "You know about my use of a time-turner in third year, so that makes me nineteen, now. Well above the wizarding age of consent."

I hoped Madam Hooch would keep her mouth shut about being the reason I was here in this side of the tent. Self-preservation was usually high on her list.

We all stared at each other, no one saying anything for more than a few seconds. Eventually, a curiously amused wobble ran across Professor McGonagall's lips before she waved one hand in a general swirling motion to indicate our surroundings, and said, "Clean up the tent, would you?"

Madam Hooch smirked and left the tent behind her.

Without looking, I reached for his hand and laced my fingers with his. I felt him staring at me, but all my Gryffindor bravado had just left the room. Knowing that he could take everything wrong and run, I did the only thing my rapidly beating heart let me do.

I waited, hoping for the world to be a better place than when I'd walked into this damned tent.

xxxx

She was holding my hand. She'd lied to Minerva- or did she? I couldn't be sure without asking, but the reaction from Rolanda as this lovely girl had done so had been somewhat telling.

And now she was holding my hand.

I had been out of my mind, rolling her about the floor. And then spilling all my secrets to her? Detailing all the ways I'd wanted to woo her, after graduation?

Insanity.

And yet, here she was. Protecting me, and holding my hand. Her breath was spilling into the air between us as I turned towards her, and it smelled sweet, like cherries and roses.

I wondered if she liked sugared roses, too. I still had one in my coat pocket I'd been saving for later. Should I give it to her now?

Might as well, I thought, as I sighed a little. With my free hand, I reached into my breast pocket and retrieved it, still wrapped in cellophane with a pink satin ribbon.

She smiled, breathed a bit of a laugh, and took it from me. Bringing it up to her mouth, she held my wondering eyes and whispered a spell to remove the wrapper, then bit into it.

Merlin, then she reached up and kissed me with all that sugary sweetness on her lips.

I dropped her hand and pulled her body tightly to mine as we picked back up where we'd left off.

Happy Valentine's to me, after all.

xxxx

Two witches cackled into the evening, arm in arm as they wand-packed the ticketing portion of the Kissing Booth.

"Minerva, you were brilliant! I didn't think it would work, but it did! Merlin save us, but that'll be a fantastic story to share with their children."

The older woman smiled, but said, "Hush, Rolanda, you don't want them to hear you. Do you have any idea how hard it was to finagle those two together? I could serve time for this, if it all came out."

"I say it was worth it. They'd been making moon eyes at each other for months. Everyone could see it but them."

"Yes, well. Let's not let them know that quite yet, shall we? I dare say they deserve their happiness. I don't want to spoil it for them."

A shiver ran down the flight instructors spine. "Too right. I still have nightmares watching the two of you duel."

They were silent for a moment as the younger finished their cleaning with a final twirl of her wand. As the last box folded itself into her pocket, she asked, "Can you imagine what their children will be like?"

They each winced, then laughed, and ambled back to the castle.

It was much later that evening before the tent was finally packed away.

The End.


End file.
